


No Talking

by booksnchocolate



Category: Bandom, Marianas Trench, Real Person Fiction
Genre: JATT - Freeform, Love, M/M, fluff-ish, slight reference to past self-harm, what they have is too precious for words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-21
Updated: 2013-10-21
Packaged: 2017-12-30 00:48:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1012050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/booksnchocolate/pseuds/booksnchocolate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> Time is not on our side, so no talking, no talking ‘bout the past. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Talking

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I don’t know these people irl. Written for fun and not profit.
> 
> Title and summary from _No Talking_ by The Zolas. Concrit is lovely; originally posted at [FYJM](http://fuckyeahjoshandmatt.tumblr.com/post/64515143657).
> 
> Slight reference to past self-harm.

There’s a rule when they’re together: no one talks about the past. Matt skims his hands up Josh’s arms and doesn’t trace the tattoos there, doesn’t press kisses to the faint silver scars on the inside of his wrists. He kisses Josh’s hips and belly but doesn’t utter a word, doesn’t tell Josh how beautiful he is, and how that beauty doesn’t have anything to do with his looks.

 

That would be breaking the rules.

 

Josh swallows all Matt’s words anyway, kisses them away, and never once apologizes for anything. He kisses down Matt’s neck and doesn’t mention the endless sleepless nights Matt spent at sixteen, waiting by the phone and crying silently for something unknown. He presses Matt down into the mattress and doesn’t apologize for the plummeting feeling Matt used to get in his gut each time he entered a room and Josh wasn’t there.

 

They don’t have long, and neither wants to spoil this time with dark things best left unsaid.

 

But sometimes, sometimes, Matt wishes he could. Sometimes, in the rare moments when Josh is asleep, he leans over and kisses lines of dark ink; he presses himself just that much closer to Josh’s warmth and exhales soft words into the dark, half-formed susurrations lost in the trail of his breath: _you’re perfect, you’re a good person, I need you_.

 

Josh snores on.

 

Josh doesn’t hear the words Matt breathes; but he sleeps beside Matt anyway. It may not seem like much, but from Josh don’t-fucking-touch-me Ramsay, this is huge. This is Josh letting his walls down. This is a sacrifice that he has made for Matt because he remembers – he still remembers – the look Matt gave him after the first time they fucked (back when it was only fucking, but that seems so long ago). Josh remembers the dark sheen to Matt’s normally light eyes, the pinched lips, and the way he wouldn’t stop shaking, miniscule tremors running through his body at every movement. He remembers the way Matt leaned into every single touch like he’d been starved for it, like no one had ever touched him before. Josh remembers this and doesn’t immediately turn over and shut Matt out. Instead, he rolls onto his back and looks up at the ceiling in the dark and allows Matt to tangle their fingers together like he thinks Josh doesn’t notice. Matt never asked for this, not with words – but Josh gives it to him anyway because it’s all he knows how to do. Josh doesn’t speak in these moments, but if he did, his lips would form words that might sound like _I’m sorry_.

 

They don’t talk about the past.

 

And sometimes, sometimes, they don’t need to. The sunrise in Josh’s eyes when Matt touches him – like he’s something wonderful, like he’s _perfect_ – conveys more gratitude than words ever could. It makes Matt’s heart ache, part sharp sadness because Josh should know he’s perfect all the time, and part sweet joy because Matt is the one putting that look on Josh’s face.

 

And Josh, Josh knows that the handful of tears Matt sheds when Josh has had him on the edge for _so long fuck please Josh_ aren’t all due to the intensity of the moment. He knows, deep down, there’s a lost kid in there, terrified for the life of his best friend, who hasn’t shown up to class for a week and isn’t answering his phone (again). So he presses his fingers just a bit harder into Matt’s skin, digs in his nails just enough to bruise. He leaves marks, promises in the shape of his fingerprints: _I’m here, I made this, you’re mine –_ because sometimes that’s what Matt needs.

 

They don’t talk about the past when they’re together.

 

They don’t need to; they’ve already promised each other the future.


End file.
